I Couldn't Stop Caring

Chapter 13

The sharp sting of the bullet burrowed its way into her shoulder with a vicious throb. As her eyes opened long after remaining fixed tightly shut, Clarke grew unsure of everything. Unsure of why the bullet didn't hit her head. Unsure of  the scuffling off feet before her.

Unsure of whether the scream of agony was hers, or someone else's.

Lexa crashed into the ground beside Emerson, no doubt after tackling him down. The blood that dropped down the side of her head suggested she had collided with him. Hard. She bared her teeth in rage as she lifted her leg, bringing her foot harshly to his stomach.

Clarke could only watch, her back pressed against the wall for support. As second by second past, the pain in her shoulder grew. It just so happened that the crimson patch of blood on her shirt also shared the same fate. She lifted her hand to cover the clean puncture left behind by the bullet.

Lexa had saved her; she had shoved herself into the face of danger to knock the life ending bullet off course, still completely defenceless with her arms bound behind her back. Yet still, she put her a fight.

Emerson had managed to grab Lexa's leg and pull her towards him, trapping the long powerful limbs below his own. His blistered, calloused hands wrapped around the olive skin of Lexa's neck, thumbs pressed roughly into her throat. The force on her windpipe only increased.

Each kick Lexa gave in attempt to remove him grew weaker as her eyes grew wider. She choked, spluttering with the lack of air. Air she desperately needed. Bloodshot eyes landed on the glinting metal of the gun, then flicked to Clarke. Clarke, who stood motionless in her own pain.

Was it okay? To let the commander die? After all, she had left her to die too. But then again, didn't Lexa just save her life? It was ridiculous to even think Lexa wasn't worth saving. She owed her now. Her heart dropped as Lexa's legs began to loose their power, dropping weakly as they began to give up- as she began to give up. Slowly, like the stem of a plant as it neared winter. They hit the ground.

For the second time in the past few minutes, the loud ripple of noise echoed through mount weather. As the second bullet was released from the chamber, Emerson's hands went slack around Lexa's throat. The body of the last mountain man, the lieutenant of Mount Weather, collapsed beside the commander.

A combination of his own blood, and the blood of many others, seeped out from the gaping hole in the centre of his chest, slowly crawling across the floor around him.

Clarke dropped to her knees beside the commander, knee caps digging harshly into the ground. "Lexa?" She asked urgently "Lexa are you okay?"

In response, Lexa just simply nodded. Clarke could only suppose she was in a small state of shock. But then again, it was the commander. She must have been through worse than this.

"Lexa?" She asked again, eyes searching for any more damage. "Lexa can you hear me?"

Lexa looked up at Wanheda, whose blonde hair fell over her shoulder, almost completely obscuring their surroundings as she looked down on her. "Yes, Clarke" she whispered "I can hear you"

"Do you want to sit up?" She asked. The droplets of blood rolling from her shoulder had long since gone ignored as she worried for Lexa.

"Yes, Clarke" she whispered again. Clarke knew she wasn't whispering by choice. Her voice was expected to be pained and tense after such a violent attack to her throat.

It was almost like she had became a completely different person, laying on her back with her braids fanned out equally around her head. And she stared up at Clarke with something other than calculations or battle plans. What it was, Clarke was still yet to find out.